She jerked her head up and glared at the berth. To think she’d been ready, and far more than willing, to give herself to him. To trap herself irrevocably in this ludicrous marriage. Well, he’d had his chance. There would not be another.
Sabrina threw herself on the bed and yanked a coverlet close around her. The beat of her heart drummed in her ears. She pulled the blanket over her head and squeezed her eyes tight. Tight. To snuff out the memory of his taste, his touch. Tight. To quell the need still aching within her.
Tight. To ease the hurt.
His knuckles whitened with the intensity of his grip on the railing. Blindly, Nicholas stared into the night. He struggled to compose himself, battled to return his breathing to normal, to quell his racing pulse. And trembled with the effort.
Never in his life had he left a woman when success was within reach. Never had he refused what was freely and easily offered. Never had conscience interfered in his pursuit of pleasure.
What on earth had come over him? Why did taking Sabrina to his, to their, bed at once seem not merely dishonorable but somehow wrong? It was what he wanted. All he wanted. Wasn’t it?
No! The insight hit him with the impact of a fist to the belly. He wanted more from her. More than a moment of mindless passion. He wanted … what?
Love?
Nicholas thrust the thought away, but like an annoying insect it returned, refusing to be ignored, insisting on attention. Love, what an odd idea. He had never been touched by love and didn’t quite believe the emotion actually existed. Would he even recognize it?
The thought settled in his mind. Perhaps it explained a number of questions plaguing him: his peculiar behavior when it came to Sabrina and the conflicting emotions now churning inside him. It could explain why her kiss brought a shock of recognition so strong he nearly reeled with the blow. Explain why physical satisfaction alone was not enough, why the thought that she would despise him was nearly more than he could bear.
Ridiculous. If he were fool enough to fall in love, surely it would not be to a woman even remotely like Sabrina. Oh, she was beautiful and, God knew, burned with a passion he had only suspected before, but the woman was stubborn and far more intelligent than any woman had a right to be. She’d already proved more than a match for him in battles of wit. No, common sense dictated he would fall in love with someone complacent and yielding. A woman who acquiesced to his demands and respected his authority.
Love was not the answer. There had to be another reason why he’d stopped when he could have brought her so eagerly to his bed. Why he’d abruptly taken her concerns and her wishes to heart. Why he’d cared about what she wanted and what she thought.
He stood on the dark deck, alone with only his frustration and confusion and misery to bear him company. If indeed this was love, he wanted no part of it.
It would be a very long night.
Sabrina would not have believed it possible, but she had slept even worse in the berth than she had in the chair, tossing and turning much of the night. She vowed to avoid and ignore Nicholas, but the moment she came on deck, he was there.
“Sabrina,” he began. “About last night.” His dark eyes radiated caution and concern, and she hardened her heart against his words. He had played her for a fool, and she would not soon forget.
“I do not wish to discuss last night,” she said coldly. “I would prefer to forget the entire incident.” She turned away and directed her attention toward the sea.
“I’d like to explain.”
“I don’t believe an explanation is necessary.” She shrugged. “I think it’s all perfectly clear.”
“Is it?” He grabbed her arm and twisted her around to face him. “Then perhaps you would be so kind as to explain it to me.”
She glared, and her resolve to pretend last night had never happened wavered under her swelling anger. She clenched her teeth in one last effort to remain calm. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you tell me what you meant.” Fire sparked in his eyes.
“Very well.” She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and winced at the momentary pain. “You wanted to show me I was no different than any other woman when it came to succumbing to your infamous charms. To humiliate and embarrass me. To put me firmly in my place. It was not necessary to actually complete the seduction to prove your point.”
“That’s what you think?” he said, his voice incredulous, stark disbelief on his face. “You honestly think I would do that to you?”
“Yes, I do.” She shot him a look of defiance, daring him to deny her charge.
“Why, Sabrina? What possible reason would I have to want to humiliate you?”
“Reason?” She hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought beyond her own anger and hurt to look for a logical motive for his actions. “I don’t know,” she snapped.
“Well, know this.” His gaze burned into hers, and a morsel of unease and doubt tweaked her conscience. Could she have made a mistake? “I have wanted you since the moment we met. Wanted the proper and serene Lady Stanford. But not nearly as much as I want the fiery, unpredictable, stubborn, infuriating Sabrina Harrington, my wife if you recall that minor detail.” He clasped her shoulders in an iron grip. “But, fool that I am, for the first time in my life, I placed a woman’s wishes above my own desires. Granted, I should not have let things get to the point they did, but ultimately I left. I upheld the idiotic terms of this alleged marriage. Preserved the privacy you value so highly.”
Sabrina stared up at him, mesmerized by the vehemence of his words and the fury in his eyes.
“And for that you dare to accuse me of the vilest of acts.” He released her abruptly. She opened her mouth to speak but could not find the words. Her anger fled in the face of his righxteous indignation.
He flung her a withering glare. “Furthermore, I resent your use of the word seduction. It seems to me there was a considerable amount of seducing on both sides.”
“You are blaming me for this?” Anger reignited in her blood. “I’m not the one with the flirtatious manner. I’m not the one who casts assessing glances that make me feel as if I hadn’t a stitch on. And I certainly did not insist on sharing a cabin with you.”
“No, but we shall continue to share that cabin,” he shot back, “in the interest of public appearances. I will not have this crew believing we are anything but blissfully wed.”
“I doubt if it will come as much of a surprise if you do not lower your voice.”
He drew a deep breath in a visible effort at self-control. His voice rang calm and cold. “You may, however, feel free to relax your guard. There shall not be a repeat of last night. I will respect your wishes, your terms.”
“Fine,” she snapped.
Nicholas tunneled a hand through his dark hair in a weary gesture. “I will agree with you on one other point as well. I too would prefer to forget the entire incident. I did not sleep at all last night, and I think it’s best if we put this behind us.”
“You didn’t sleep? What a shame, Nicholas.” She smiled smugly and turned to the sea. “I myself slept extremely well.”
Throughout the day, Sabrina remained cautious and careful around Nicholas, as if treading on the thinnest of eggshells. The companionship they’d shared before last night was now strained, and tension marked their time together. By nightfall they’d declared an uneasy truce.
Again tonight Sabrina was the first in their cabin. She changed quickly and climbed into the berth. Nicholas actually knocked before entering, and she could not help but regret, if only for a moment, their marriage terms and his inopportune remembrance of them last night. He was cordial and polite, even fairly pleasant, but nothing of the notorious rake appeared, however briefly. He lived up to his promise to the letter, and Sabrina was more than satisfied with his behavior. Still, she could not help but wonder why that satisfaction was not quite as sweet as it should have been.
They bid each other good night, and Nicholas took up her previous position in the ch
air. Dim moonlight danced in the many-paned widow at the bow end of the cabin and silhouetted his shadowy figure across the room. She was sharply aware of his every movement, every breath, every sigh.
The ship creaked and moaned through the night, an unsteady pulse that surged in her blood and toyed with her mind. The sea cradled the vessel, rocking and lulling its passengers in the seductive, age-old rhythms of life itself. The slap of waves against wood echoed and throbbed.
And no one slept.
Chapter 9
The docks at Marseilles buzzed and hummed with an intensity well worthy of a thriving seaport. Sailors and other various and unique forms of life swarmed and scurried. Carts and wagons, heavy with cargo, lumbered along, heedless of the bustling throng. Crates were stacked high here and there in unsteady caricatures of medieval castles. Voices in a dozen different languages assailed his ears; the smells born of men and fish and God only knew what assaulted his nostrils. Still, Nicholas savored the pleasurable feel of firm footing and solid ground.
Oh, he’d always enjoyed being on the sea. He’d even considered going to sea as a lad, a frivolous and unthinkable idea for the sole heir to a substantial fortune and respected title. But as agreeable as life on board ship was, it was still nice to have the earth back beneath his feet.
He ducked and dodged the lively goings-on and headed toward the town center. Sabrina had asked him to post a letter to Belinda, and he obligingly consented. He tried to be as amenable to her as temperament allowed, in a valiant attempt to ease the strain between them. They treated each other with the caution of natural enemies forced together against their will.
He strode through the docks and considered the matter. Something had to be done. Nicholas had no desire to continue with this icy barrier between them. He missed the charm and the challenge of her companionship. A polite, formal tolerance of each other was not at all what he wanted from her. Although admittedly he’d yet to answer the question of just what he did want.
Perhaps the ship’s captain could help shed light on the matter. He was expected to join his crew here. Simon said this Captain Madison was a very old friend of Sabrina’s, practically a member of the family. Nicholas held a picture in his mind of a grizzled old sea dog, something of a paternal figure. If the man had known her for long he could, no doubt, provide some insight into her character. Nicholas could certainly use all the help he could get.
He expected help from another quarter as well and had his own letter to post, in addition to the letter to Belinda. This missive was to his solicitor in London, directing the man to get a decent investigator and not another idiot. Nicholas was now firmly convinced the explanation behind one of Sabrina’s marriage conditions lay in her past. Why on earth would a woman who’d always had social position and wealth concern herself with financial independence? Whatever the answer, it remained well hidden. The easiest, although not always the most reliable, information was simply ton gossip. But neither he, nor the incompetent he’d originally hired to look into her background, had come up with even the slightest indication of monetary difficulties.
Nicholas worked his way down the docks, deep in his own thoughts. An ornately outfitted town carriage drew his attention, and he slowed his steps. The elegant vehicle was distinctly out of place in the seamy atmosphere, and he wondered as to its purpose.
The carriage door flew open and a man about Nicholas’s height and build bounded out with a fluid, athletic grace. Impeccably attired, he had fair hair that contrasted with his darkened skin, indisputable evidence of long hours of work under a hot sun. A feminine, bejeweled hand extended from the carriage’s open door. The man clasped the hand in his, lifted it to his lips, and expertly flipped it over, placing a single kiss in the palm. Nicholas grinned at the well-rehearsed and very likely quite effective bit of gallantry. The subject of his scrutiny firmly closed the carriage door and turned, his gaze catching Nicholas’s. The man shrugged and winked, and Nicholas nodded in acknowledgment, an instinctual recognition between men who share a common bond: the pursuit and enjoyment of women. The stranger swaggered off and Nicholas continued on his way, unable to suppress an appreciative chuckle.
Nicholas disposed of his errands swiftly and returned to the docks. He was still a good distance from the ship when he spotted Sabrina’s figure on the deck. She’d not left the ship while they were in port, for once agreeing with him that unless she wanted to change out of her men’s clothing and into proper attire, as well as taking several sailors as escorts, her safety would be in jeopardy in this colorful but disreputable place.
She glanced in his direction and waved eagerly. In spite of their differences, was she now glad of his return? Odd, how the pace of his feet and the race of his heart picked up whenever she came into sight. He raised his hand in response.
“Bree!” a voice rang out from somewhere nearer the ship.
Bree?
Nicholas slowed, perplexed, and spotted a broad-shouldered man taking the gangplank in long, easy strides. From the back, the cut of his clothes, the jaunty spring in his step seemed familiar.
Sabrina raced down the deck. Nicholas quickened his steps, an uneasy apprehension urging him forward. The stranger reached Sabrina, and at once she was in his arms. He lifted her off her feet and swung her around, golden, unbound hair flying free. Even at a distance, the delight in her laughter was unmistakable. Stunned, he watched the man wrap her in his arms and plant his lips firmly on hers.
Nicholas strode up the gangplank in time to see the end of what appeared to be a distinctly passionate kiss. Anger swelled within him. Who was this man, and why did he kiss Sabrina in such an intimate manner? Sabrina. His wife! He gritted his teeth, his hands tightened into fists, and he willed himself to remain calm.
“An acquaintance of yours, I presume?” Nicholas’s voice was cold and hard.
Sabrina and the stranger broke apart and turned to face him. Good Lord! It was the man from the carriage. He grinned at Nicholas and kept one arm possessively around Sabrina, in a manner that did nothing to quell Nicholas’s simmering rage.
“You! Who are you?” Nicholas demanded.
“I should ask you the same question,” the fair-haired man drawled, his tone insolent. “Since this is my ship you’re on.”
“Your ship?” Nicholas said in confusion.
“Nicholas, may I present Captain Matthew Madison,” Sabrina cut in, a challenging gleam in her eye.
Nicholas stared, shocked at the introduction. This was no fatherly figure, no wise, aged man of the sea. This was a rogue, a rake, probably a scoundrel.
“Matt, this is Nicholas Harrington, Earl of Wyldewood.”
Madison shrugged. “All right, that’s his name. What’s he doing here?”
“I’m her husband.” Nicholas spat the words through clenched teeth.
“Husband?” Madison’s eyes widened in surprise, and he turned to Sabrina. “Is that true?”
Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “More or less.”
“More or less?” Madison raised a puzzled brow. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means nothing,” Nicholas said sharply. “And I will thank you to take your hands off my wife.”
Madison hesitated, hugged her quickly, then removed his arm from around Sabrina’s waist. She cast Nicholas a disdainful glare and turned to Madison.
“We really must talk. It’s been a very long time and there are”—she waved her hands in a vague gesture—“well, matters we need to discuss. I’m sure you have some questions.”
“Oh, I definitely have questions.”
She turned a scathing look on Nicholas. “I’m going to my cabin now. Alone.” She pivoted and stalked off.
Nicholas stared after her. Madison wasn’t the only one with questions. But Nicholas was damned if she would leave his questions hanging. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.
Madison chuckled beside him. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”
In his younger days, Nicholas had bee
n in numerous tight spots, circumstances in which his life hung by a thread. He hadn’t seen military service during the war but had served in other ways. All the attributes that had once made him an extremely dangerous man, a man who fought for and expected, no, demanded success, now surged within him.
He cast a cold, calm, deadly glance at Madison and made certain his voice matched his eyes. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you.”
Nicholas nodded curtly and strode off after his wife.
Sabrina slammed the door to her cabin and paced the room. Nicholas had no right, absolutely no right to treat her like a piece of property, his property. She deeply resented his telling Matt about their marriage. Sabrina would have told him soon enough in her own way. And Nicholas was so bloody cold and nasty about it all.
Oh, certainly he had come upon them at an inopportune moment. But it was no more than the greeting of two old friends after the separation of a decade. Still… Sabrina drew up short, stopped by a sudden insight. Nicholas didn’t know that. He’d never met Matt and had no inkling as to their past relationship. All Nicholas knew was what he saw: his wife kissing a dashing and extremely attractive stranger in what might well be called an enthusiastic manner.
He was jealous! Sabrina grinned at the revelation. Of course, that was it. What a lovely idea. If he was jealous, he must care about her, if only a little. The thought warmed her. She was tired of being at odds with him and wanted the friendship that had been growing between them back. Beyond that, well, she was no longer sure if she wanted strict adherence to all the terms of their marriage.
The door flew open in a thundering crash, and Nicholas stormed into the cabin.
“We are going to talk.” His voice rang with suppressed rage, and fury sparked in his eyes. He slammed the door behind him and moved toward her.
The Perfect Wife Page 11
